


just another word for you

by cinderlily



Series: you're my home [1]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily





	just another word for you

When pressed for it, David Archuleta would admit he was good at his job. Moreover, he _liked_ his job for which he counted himself lucky. The bulk of his friends were trying to find a job in general, let alone one that they looked forward to going to so if he had to make sure that he was on top of his schoolwork because his scholarship to BYU was contingent on it or if he sometimes felt a little overwhelmed, he did that with pleasure. He loved music more than he loved pretty much anything else, so it was pretty much the coolest thing ever that he got to go someplace and watch others make music three nights a week.

It wasn't exactly how he had planned on spending his Thursday night; he had thought that this was a week off. (Not that he was complaining about going in.) He was one of the few interns that had gotten hired on past summer and he was still a full time student so it was luck alone that kept him there. He had thought he would spend that night getting his life caught up so the next week he wouldn't have to think about not having enough time.

His boss had other ideas.

During his last class of the day he had gotten a text message (he didn't even know his boss KNEW how to text) that simply read, "Are you available tonight?" And yeah, he was. He rarely wasn't.

Curiosity was what did him in, because he knew the schedule like the back of his hand and he knew there was nothing on tab. Why would he be called in if there was nothing going on? He had texted back a simple "Yeah" and let his brain drift back to what it might mean until class ended and he hopped on the bus that he used most of the time to get to the theater.

When he reached work he saw a huge conspicuous black SUV in the very front and he knew he shouldn't but he walked over to see if he could see into the windows. They were pitch black and he frowned. It was too weird, and he was in _Utah_, nothing weird was supposed to happen. Nothing happened, _period_.

His boss, Mr. Turner met him at the glass doors and ushered him in without any formalities. David was beginning to wonder if he was about to get let in on a government secret or something, because in front of his boss' office there were guys in suits.

"Uh, Mr. Turner?" he asked under his breath and hoped that no one heard him. "Is everything okay?"

His boss spared him a quick nod, but he looked distracted. "Yes, everything is fine."

That wasn't really that encouraging. He was led into the actual office and sat down when Mr. Turner pointed at the chair that wasn't behind his desk.

"David," he said with a smile, and thank everything holy, his pulse slowed down. "We have a surprise coming to us this weekend."

David felt himself smile, more out of an urge to remain polite than out of actual excitement. "A surprise, sir?"

"Yes," Mr. Turner lifted a piece of paper off of his desk. "A surprise. And that surprise is going to require someone who knows our lighting and our soundboards. I was asked who I could trust, and immediately thought of you."

His cheeks flushed, but his smile was far more genuine. "That's awesome, thank you so much, sir."

"I am going to need you to sign this confidentiality agreement."

"What?" he blinked at the paper in front of himand tried to read it but couldn't seem to wrap his head around any of the words other than 'Non-disclosure Agreement' written in bold font along the top of it.

Mr. Turner handed him a pen and then waved his hand non-committally in the air. "It just says you can't tell anyone anything that happens this weekend until AFTER the weekend is over."

"Sure," David offered. He wasn't sure who Mr. Turner thought he would tell. He grabbed the pen and signed next to the X.

"Lovely," his boss beamed. "Now, here is the run down. The winner of American Idol, David Cook is going to be doing two concerts here for charity. One on Saturday evening and the other Sunday night…"

After he heard the words _David Cook_ and _concert_ he lost all chances of keeping his head in the conversation. David Cook was doing two shows in PROVO, UTAH? That was weird enough that David wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep his mind wrapped around it. Or why he was expected to keep it a secret, for that matter. He could quite easily run around tomorrow wearing a sandwich board that said, "David Cook is HERE." and there was no way on earth anyone would believe him. HE didn't believe it.

"… David?" Mr. Turner gave him a look that indicated that he was supposed to have a response to whatever he just said.

Never great at lying, David felt his ears go pink. "That sounds good to me?"

"Excellent!"

David tried not to sag against his chair in relief, he wasn't really in the mood to explain to his _boss_ that he got distracted about his huge crush being the one to show up at the theater. Thankfully the box was just far enough away that most times he never even met the talent. (He had to tell himself that a few times, as it didn't seem a good thing at very first.)

Mr. Turner got to his feet and looked expectantly at David so he did the same. They left his office and walked through the hallway to the hidden entrance for 'the Box' which was what most people called the Technical Support. "We were given his basic cues list, but we are going to do a run through to make sure he still likes them and that they fit on our stage."

"Okay sounds good," David was a little worried that his nerves would get in the way of doing a run through when he knew that, while it might be a roadie then, later it would be _David Cook_ to do a run through knowing full well that while it might be a roadie then, but later on it would be _David Cook_.

He stepped into the small black room that he had come to think of as his home in the almost year that he'd worked there. When he caught sight of the tech board he stopped short. It wasn't his board, it wasn't… it was _nice_. He looked at Mr. Turner.

"Uh, Mr. Turner, did we get a new board?"

Mr. Turner laughed, "No, though I suspect you might wish we had. Mr. Cook's team sent this up, it has the cues built in."

"I don't know how to use this system," David admitted, kind of embarrassed. Plus, when it came down to it, it wasn't _his_ board. He had worked on that board for a year, and he had finally gotten most of the kinks worked out. It didn't matter that the new board looked totally awesome, it wasn't _his_ and that was totally frustrating. When he realized Mr. Turner was frowning at him he forced a smile back on his face. "I guess I will just have to learn to use it quickly?"

Mr. Turner clapped him on the back, "That's the spirit! I will send one of his crew to come and give you the basics."

David nodded and sat down on his bar stool. Mr. Turner left without another word, leaving David to freak out in private. He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. When that didn't work he started to hum the song that was in the back of his head, though he couldn't quite put a finger on what the lyrics were.

When a short brunette walked in ten minutes later David was still staring forlornly at the unfamiliar buttons and still humming the same tune to comfort himself. He looked up when she laughed under her breath.

"Let me guess, you're a fan?"

David frowned, "What do you mean?"

"You're humming 'The Truth'," she smiled. "Old stuff, you must really like him."

_That's_ what it was. He had lost track of the amount of times people pointed out to him that he was singing, it was a habit that was harder to break than biting his nails. Still though, that was kind of a new level of horrifying.

"Can this stay between us?" he asked, hoping his tone wasn't as desperate as it sounded in his head.

The woman held up both hands, "Hey, the only reason I knew what it was is because I am a fan as well. I'm Kelly, by the way. I usually work the shows."

"Oh, um… I guess, sorry I took your job from you?"

She laughed, "No worries, man, this was the end of tour, thanks to you I get to head home three days early."

David relaxed, "Oh, good."

"First though, I have to show you how to work this monstrosity," Kelly laughed. "Don't worry though, she looks scary but she plays nice."

"Whatever you say," David shrugged. "Um, is someone going to check the mike?"

Kelly pulled up a walkie talkie, "Tell David we're ready."

"David?" David frowned. "How many of us are there?"

"Counting you? Two."

As if to leave no chance of him misunderstanding what she meant by that, he heard a familiar voice through the loud speakers. "Can you guys hear me up there?"

David stared down at the stage, seeing Cook staring up at the lights with a hand cupped to block out the light. Kelly pressed the button on the walkie talkie again, "Tell him to hold on for two minutes while I get the kid the basics."

Cook seemed to take 'hold on' to mean, "stand there and play around on your guitar while ensuring that David only catches one or two of the countless things Kelly is trying to tell him". She seemed not to notice, or at very least not to care and so when she was done she gave him a slap on the back.

"So you know, whatever you do don't press this button," she waved indistinctly at the board and David's heart jumped into his throat. There was a button that did something bad? What did it do? Did it override the cues? Kelly laughed, "Kidding, just kidding."

He took a long breath and then laughed, "Goodness, you got me."

Kelly quirked an eye brow, "_Goodness_? Unless you're being ironic you must be new to theater. "

"Uh… I wasn't trying to be ironic?"

"Oh man, you are almost too cute to actually exist."

David hated how often he got that kind of compliment, but forced himself to smile. "Thank you."

"Come on, let's get this show started," Kelly said, both into her walkie talkie and to David. She lowered her hand and said directly to him, "You will learn faster by doing, trust me."

*

Thankfully Kelly was right, and within twenty minutes David was running through the cues along with a live soundtrack by Cook. For all his annoyance at losing the familiarity of his board, the simplicity of the new one was pretty lucky. If it hadn't been so simple, he highly doubted he have would been able to keep up with the cues and enjoy the music.

On the days he went to work after class he had to put his homework in the box with him, right by the sound station so that when he got free time he could manage to get his work done. And it wasn't that hard to concentrate on useless busy work when he had something awesome in the background to distract from the fact that the work was boring.

He didn't mind doing sound checks. (Even if the cues were pretty spaced out and so easy he could pull them off in his sleep.) He liked the comfort of it. The problem was that sometimes he got a little too into it and would totally not get any work done, which wasn't helpful to him or to the artist, so he had to stay on top of it.

He checked his watch to see how much longer till the next cue, and then looked down at his econ book. He could probably finish the next section if he worked hard. It was almost like a game. (An admittedly lame and stupid game but a game nonetheless.)

And okay, there was something about the guy at the mike tonight that made him feel kind of stupid. Provo didn't exactly have too many big name singers come through, but they had had _some_ pretty awesome people come through in David's short time. David was professional enough that he could smile and nod and take the critiques from Norah Jones and even Mariah Carey, but apparently not professional enough to deal with the fact that his crush was 100 feet away from him. No one, not even his sister Claudia who pretty much knew EVERYTHING about him, knew that he had a crush on David Cook and he was pretty thankful for that

So yeah, it didn't hurt that the sound check was for **David Cook**, and yes he had watched all of _American Idol_ religiously and though he had liked Jason Castro a lot, he had voted every single week for David Cook. So the fringe benefit of working with only like eight people was that he was one of ten people there with David Cook. That was something like the best job perk he could think of.

Not that he was going to um… talk to David Cook. Cause why would David Cook want to talk to the sound guy at a stupid theater in a Podunk town like Provo? (David still had NO IDEA why he was even playing a show there in the first place.) But he was there, that was awesome enough.

It did make studying just a little bit harder than he wanted it to be though, as he had to fight a blush when he heard Cook ask for the main to be turned down or for his cue to be put off a few lines. Blush, at a simple CUE edit. It was embarrassing, and stupid and _oh my_ was he thankful that the sound box was enclosed and dark. That made it all just a little bit easier.

He was so close to the end of his econ that he could taste it and it would so be worth it because this was the last homework that he had and that meant he could spend the rest of the night focusing on David Cook... and his music of course. So he focused down on the book for the last few sentences and totally blew the last cue. And his boss might have yelled into his ear "GET ON IT ARCHULETA." and he might have blushed furiously and made a noise closely related to an "EEP" which might have gone on the loud speaker. He just prayed David Cook was momentarily deaf.

*

After the sound check was over and people were more or less gone, David was in the middle of wrapping a power cord around his arm when he heard someone cough behind him. When he turned around he froze like a deer caught in headlights at the sight of David Cook smiling at him.

"Can I um… h-h-help you?" he flinched at his stutter. He had gotten over that nervous tick when he was in high school, it figured that it would show up again at the least opportune time.

Cook took a few steps towards him and stuck his hand out. "You must be Archuleta?"

"Yeah, I'm David Archuleta," he looked down at the cord in his hands and hesitated for a second before placing it on the ground and shaking hands with him.

"I'm David Cook," he smiled. "I hear you are the resident tech master?"

David looked down and flushed, "I just try to do my job."

"That isn't what people around here are saying. I hear you have a gift."

For a split second he could imagine the look on his face being pretty manic. He shook his head awkwardly. "That's nice of them to say."

A moment of awkward silence and David leaned down to pick up the cord and start twisting it back up and over in a figure eight. He couldn't quite look up into Cook's eyes but he hoped that he might get the hint and walk away. The stage was empty, he didn't even know why Cook was still here, and really it would be better for his own sanity not to embarrass himself anymore for the day.

"Are you a theater major?" Cook asked and David finished up the cord he had in his hands and put it down before he spoke again.

"I'm majoring in business," he admitted. "I volunteered here as an intern last summer, then got hired on."

When David moved to the next power cord he needed to put away, Cook followed along. "Business? What got you into that?"

"My dad thinks its better that I get a degree I can find work with," he shrugged. This time the cord only took a minute or so to finish and when he did he placed it next to the first. He only had one left, and again Cook followed behind him.

"You aren't very talkative are you?" Cook teased and David looked up nervously.

He licked his lips and tried not to flinch or stutter, "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Cook frowned. "I just saw you out here working and it looks like we are the last two left here, so I figured I would introduce myself."

David couldn't help his chuckle, "You don't have to introduce yourself."

"I don't?" Cook gave a half-smile.

David had finished the last cord and placed it with the others. With the lack of things to do he just stood there switching his weight from foot to foot. "My boss introduced you earlier?"

"HAH!" Cook gave a surprised bark of laughter.

David just barely swallowed around the word 'What?' and instead tried for a casual smile. "It was cool hearing you warm up earlier."

"Thanks."

It was weird to be standing there with absolutely no idea of what to do next. Does he bow out? Does he offer again to help him? He was looking straight at David like he might have some sort of answer but he wasn't sure what he could offer him.

"Do yo—is there…" he started, swallowed and tried again. "Can I do something for you?"

Cook raised an eyebrow. He looked like he was thinking something over and the silence made David want to twitch. "Yeah… you can."

"What do you need?" he said, and hoped that he sounded helpful and not annoyed.

"Do you know where I could get some good barbeque?"

Caught completely off guard it took him a minute or so to process the request. He had assumed Cook would ask him to reset something, or maybe even to remember a new cue or something. A restaurant request wasn't even on his radar at all. He hadn't been in Provo that long, but he remembered seeing a few places in a strip mall a little ways away from the school.

He chewed on his lower lip, "I don't know if it's _good_ barbeque, but um… there is a place called Kinfolk close by. I heard the ladies at the front liked it? You just go back onto the main road and drive down a little ways to the first shopping center on your right."

"You want to find out if it's all they say?"

"What?"

Cook smiled, "Are you hungry?"

"Um," David blinked a few times, wondering if he was just misreading the situation. "Sure?"

"Awesome," Cook smiled. "Is it close enough to walk? I don't really have a car and I think the tour bus might draw attention."

He didn't say that he was pretty sure that it wouldn't be the tour bus that tipped people off. It probably was close enough to walk there, and he didn't mind getting some time to stretch his legs. "It is… don't you need to go get your body guards or something?"

There was that laugh again, it was weirdly attractive even if it did kind of sound like a donkey. "I like you, you're funny."

"I am?" David asked, but that just made him laugh again.

Cook turned to walk off the stage and into the audience, not waiting to see if David would follow. When his brain finally caught up with his feet, David had to sprint to get caught up with him.

*

Kinfolk was small and empty, not that that was that much of a shock, it was almost 10 on a Thursday. The guy behind the counter looked at them with mild interest, and told them they could sit anywhere they wanted. They chose a booth off to the side, partially because it was closer to the kitchen and partially because David didn't want to risk the whole evening getting ruined by someone recognizing Cook. It was kind of surreal walking down the street next to him, but the feeling wore off quickly.

Cook, David found, was _normal_. Not like he had been expecting him to be horrible or anything, he seemed nice enough on the show (if maybe a little shy). It was just that he had spent so much time watching him in interviews and performances, he had thought he knew what to expect. He hadn't expected him to be just like ... human.

"Do you know what you want?" Cook asked, breaking David out his train of thought. The man from behind the counter was standing beside their table with a pad of paper.

Truth was he hadn't even looked at the menu yet, but he nodded. "You go first."

"Can I get the brisket and a baked potato?" Cook smiled winningly at the man but he didn't seem to notice or care.

He looked over at David, who still hadn't even opened his menu. "Uh… the same?"

"To drink?"

"Water is fine for me," David said, finally able to say at least that with a little bit of conviction.

Cook made a 'me too' motion and the guy walked away.

"So you are majoring in business?" Cook asked, and David gave a short nod. Cook laughed, "I get the feeling you don't want to talk about school then?"

David shrugged, "I guess not. It isn't really that interesting, you know? I don't travel around the country singing to thousands..."

"Believe me when I say that isn't as interesting as you might think," Cook said, then laughed again. "Wait, that came out wrong. It is awesome, I love my job and I am crazy lucky to have it..."

The way Cook was rambling, it almost sounded like he was reading off of a teleprompter. "You don't have to ... you know... pretend or anything."

Cook stopped in the middle of a sentence and stared at him for a serious moment, he cracked a small smile. "I have to admit, I am a little fascinated by you."

"How so?" David tried not to sound too incredulous, but really? Him?

The guy came by with two mason jars full of water and a plate of cornbread, Cook didn't seem to want to say anything with the guy around. "You just, you give a whole new meaning to genuine, kid."

"Thanks?"

Cook chuckled, "It isn't a bad thing. It's actually kind of refreshing."

There really wasn't much that David could say to that. His cheeks flushed so he ducked his head, pretending he needed to really focus on buttering his bread. He had been told before he was genuine, but it was usually attached to the words 'young' or 'naive'. This was the first time he had been told that as a compliment without any strings attached.

"Are you blushing?" Cook asked, which so didn't help the fact that he was in fact not even just blushing but turning into a giant patchwork of red.

David tried to find a new (safer) topic to discuss, but felt like he was grasping at straws. "Was there ever anything else you wanted to do?"

"You mean besides music?" Cook shrugged, taking a bite of his cornbread. "I was a bartender for a while, but that was always a transition job. I guess I figured that I should do the thing I am passionate about, and I love music. Why settle for anything if you know what can make you happy?"

Even though he knew there was no way Cook could know his life story, it was weird to hear a question he had been asking himself for his entire life put so matter-of-factly. He had spent so much time trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life that sometimes he forgot he was only 18. He loved music too, not that he would say that to Cook, but he loved running... he loved his faith... family. Cook made it sound so easy but he guessed if he was doing something he loved like Cook he might be able to agree without doubts.

"You okay?" Cook asked.

David gave an embarrassed laugh, "Oh gosh, sorry. Uh... sometimes I get lost in my own head."

"Sounds dangerous," he teased.

"Don't worry, I have a map," David shrugged, and then paused to think. "That didn't even make sense, did it?"

Cook smiled, "Not really."

"I keep thinking I am about to wake up."

"Am I really that much of a nightmare?"

David put his hands over his eyes, "Oh gosh, _shut up_."

When he put his hand down he found Cook had his fist over his mouth, trying to hold back a fit of silent giggles. David tried to keep an indignant look on his face, and almost succeeded until Cook tried to take a breath and let out what could only be classified as a snort. David giggled too, even though he was pretty sure they were laughing **at** him rather than _with_ him.

By the time their food arrived David felt the tight nerves in his stomach uncoil a bit. It was easier than he thought possible to forget that he was at a table with American Idol's David Cook and instead be at a table with this weird guy named Cook. Who told truly awful jokes, laughed at random things David said and who seemed to not care that David rambled when he was nervous.

They finished their meal and David groaned at how full he felt. He didn't eat outside of the cafeteria that often, he couldn't remember the last time actually, it was a whole new meaning of the word satisfying. When they started to walk back they both took their time.

It was dark enough that he could trick himself into thinking he could say anything, and their conversation jumped back and forth between topics. They talked about their families, about their childhoods and even a little about music. David thought he might never get sick of the way Cook talked about music. He sounded so happy and relaxed David felt like he was seeing a part of Cook that most people didn't see and it made his heart stutter in his chest.

At one point Cook even admitted to the unexpected pitfalls of _American Idol_.

("I feel a bit trapped… I know, I know, poor tortured artist." )

David hadn't really admitted to many people outside of his family and Murray that he hadn't had his first kiss yet. For one thing, he was at a college that didn't really encourage physical contact and for another it was pretty sure fire to get a girl to call him things like, 'cute' or 'adorable' and he had some self-respect there. When he had finally admitted to himself that he didn't want to kiss a girl, he wanted to kiss _boys_ it was just another reason for him to remain chaste.

He hadn't even meant to tell Cook about it, really, had enough sense of self-preservation to realize that he didn't want Cook to have that knowledge. Total embarrassment aside, he got the feeling that Cook was the kind of guy to fixate on facts like that and he didn't want to have to defend himself on it for the rest of their friendship.

But they stopped by a gas station to grab drinks and snacks, David picked up a thing of gummi worms which seemed to amuse Cook. Back in the safety of the darkness, David opened the bag and tried to casually ask what was so funny about gummi worms. Cook said that his last girlfriend had been obsessed with them and they shared a particularly Lady and the Tramp type inside joke and he couldn't look at them the same ever since.

"Got to admit," Cook smiled, snagging a worm and taking a huge bite off of it. "Before her I found kissing kind of boring, you know what I mean?"

And David should have just agreed with him or at least made a non-committal noise but instead he opened his mouth and the truth fell out. "No, I don't… I have never um… done it before."

"Kissed with gummi worms?" Cook asked, throwing the other half of his last one in his mouth. "It's fun."

David felt himself fidget. "I guess? But I meant kiss someone. I have never… uh. Done that."

Cook stopped in his tracks and David did, too. There was a particularly long stretch of silence that followed, with the cool nighttime air feeling suddenly thick around them. It was nice to have the dark hide his more than likely bright red face and maybe buffer the confused lines on Cook's face. He could almost make himself believe that Cook didn't look horrified or amused.

"Never?" he asked finally.

David turned away a little. "I lived a pretty sheltered life, you know? It wasn't like I was going to find someone at school or church who didn't know my entire family and I just didn't want it to be a … nothing, you know? I wanted it to _mean something_. And then I realized I liked boys rather than girls and that just threw a cog into everything so it just… well. Yeah, um. You know, never."

He realized he hadn't just admitted to never being kissed but also to being gay. Cook was now the second person, besides himself, to know that fact. David couldn't help but hold his breath and stare at a crack in the sidewalk.

When Cook didn't immediately laugh David thought his crush might have just edged over to real and true love. His heart beat so hard in his chest he thought that if he looked down he would be able to see the outline like in those Pepe Le Pew cartoons. It was, well, it was totally ridiculous but David knew he couldn't change that about himself. He tried to feign being relaxed and nonchalant, even if it really didn't matter because Cook was looking off to the middle distance like he was watching for something. Cook started to walk again and David followed beside him, hoping the topic was dropped.

"You know what, Archuleta?" Cook said, still not looking at him a few minutes later. "I have to change my earlier comment, you aren't just genuine, you may just be the most genuine person I have ever met. I really hope you never lose that."

David blinked rapidly, unsure how that had anything to do with the conversation they were having. "Uh… thanks?"

"You're welcome," a beat and then. "And about your first kiss? Don't let someone take it from you. Trust me, you want to give it."

He tried his best to relax, but there was a weird tension there that hadn't really been before. In the past he had thought of it as this weird 'L' tattoo on his forehead, but now it was something he felt oddly proud of. If he could figure out how to do it he would thank Cook for that, it was the nicest gift he could imagine getting from someone.

Instead he asked the first question that came to mind. "What was your first kiss like?"

"You are expecting me to remember that far back?" Cook laughed and rubbed at his neck. "I can barely remember twenty minutes ago… this was… man… a decade ago. More than that…. Not that you should… I mean. My first kiss wasn't really what you could call romantic or anything."

David couldn't stop himself, "Wait, how old were you?"

Cook paused again and started back walking with an awkward chuckle, "I was thirteen. She was my best friend in the entire world and she decided that we were going to kiss. I didn't really have an option or anything. She had seen too much _Dawson's Creek_ or something. Thought we were meant to be. She leaned in and kissed me and I was in the middle of saying something so we clacked teeth."

They both laughed. They had reached the back door but neither made a move to go in, instead standing awkwardly in the dim yellow light of a street lamp.

"It was horrible. She wouldn't talk to me for two weeks straight and when she finally did she made me promise not to tell anyone."

"But you told me," David frowned.

Cook shrugged. "It's been thirteen years… She is married with a kid, I doubt she is going to be that offended by me telling you."

Without thinking about it David blurted out, "You had your first kiss when I was five."

"Way to make me feel old, Archie," Cook laughed. "We should probably go in, its getting pretty warm."

It wasn't warm, at all, David thought. It was actually kind of cool if maybe a bit humid but he didn't say any of that. He just nodded and opened the door.

*

By the next morning David almost had himself believing that he had dreamt most of the night before. For the first time in a while he slept all the way to when he had set an emergency alarm to wake himself up (usually he just got up on his own) so it wasn't that hard to convince himself it hadn't actually happened.

On Fridays David's schedule was light. He was done with classes at 11, so he would show up to work early. It gave him a leg up on getting any last minute homework done and it also let him enjoy some solitude, which was something he cherished after living in the a dorm for two semesters. He put on his headphones and sat in the middle of the auditorium in what he always thought were the best seats, dead center 18th row. You could see the whole stage with out craning, you had a empty walk way in front of you so you don't have to worry about getting up in someone's space and the acoustics were amazing.

His iPod shuffled along and he barely noticed when he started to hum along or a moment later when he sung along.

"_This could be nothing, but I'm willing to give it a try. Please give me something, cause someday I might know my heart…. Know my heart… know my heart._"

The second long silence gave him a chance to hear loud clapping and he dropped his earphones to his neck and blushed bright red. He blinked hard with hopes that maybe he was just seeing things but when David Cook didn't blink out of existence he kind of hoped **he** would instead. Cook kept clapping and David just flushed harder and looked down at where his copy of Pablo Neruda poems sat on his lap.

"Oh my gosh, can you pretend you didn't hear that?" he begged when he found his voice again.

Cook, who stopped clapping and had bridged the short distance to sit down next to David, shook his head. "Are you kidding me, kid? You let me ramble at you about music yesterday when you have a set of pipes like THAT?"

"You didn't ramble," he blinked. "You were awesome, I mean you totally know what you are talking about and I am just… I like to goof off, you know? It's a release?"

Cook gaped at him.

"…Stop looking at me like that."

"That is just you goofing off, really?"

He tilted his head. "Yeah?"

Cook took the book off of his lap and placed it on the floor, grabbed David by the hand and led him up the aisle to the stage. David flailed a little, finally realized he could you know, get out of Cook's hands if he wanted to (and not that he REALLY wanted to but this was getting weird) so he pulled and stopped walking halfway across the stage.

A second later Cook had a mike-stand in front of him and was tapping on it to see if it was on. (It wasn't, but all David had to do was click the little black button underneath it, it was his job after all.) And then when it was he turned and looked at David with this toothy grin. It was enough to make David a little unfocused.

"Try it again."

David tilted his head and arched a brow, "Are you high?"

Cook laughed, and man David loved his laugh. He watched that stupid finale video like 900 times of him and Syesha talking to the Love Guru just for that moment at the end when he laughed, leaned back away from the razor and had a huge glop of shaving cream land on his lap. It took him just out of the moment enough that he thought, 'Okay, humor the crazy guy.' And started to hum the song he had been singing a minute before. It was weird though, no background music, it echoed off of all the walls and he sounded… like him… in the shower in the morning but no running water and crazy good acoustics.

"Weird," he stopped, mid hum. "Cook, I don't want to do this without music."

Cook put up a finger and ran off stage and David just barely had long enough to think, 'Oh no, that wasn't what I meant' before he ran back on stage with his guitar and a piece of paper.

"Take this!"

David did, mostly because Cook looked REALLY manic and it was kind of unsettling but then he looked down he saw words, and he recognized them. They were lyrics to one of Cook's songs, one of David's favorites of Cook's songs actually.

Cook started off the opening riff and then paused. "Do you need me to run through it to get the melody?"

"Of course not," David blurted out, handed him back the paper and then rolled his eyes. Yeah, like he needed Cook to know he had the words memorized already. Cook looked pleased though, the smile from a minute before still wide and happy.

He started off the song again, slowed down the first riff and then repeated it while starting to sing, "You say you gotta go find yourself…" and raised his eyebrows at David like, 'Your turn' and started again.

David licked his lips cause they were cracked and dry and then started, really quietly, "You say you gotta go find yourself…"

Cook rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Come on, like you were doing out there."

David frowned, "This is so not funny."

"I'm not laughing, am I?" Cook shook his head. "Humor me here, kid."

There was that word again, and man if it didn't itch like a bur under David's skin. Cook started again and David went all in, figured worst case it was just one guy (Who was he kidding? It wasn't just some random guy it was _gosh_, David Cook, but whatever) and it was just one time. He could think of it as a nightmare come to life, if needed.

He belted out the opening lyrics and then closed his eyes. He knew this song like the back of his hand and he had sung it a hundred times. And if the night before hadn't been a dream, this had to be one. This was just a dream, a really really weird nightmare that he had to just sing his way through and then wake up and have to yell at his roommate Blake so he could get into the bathroom cause he was going to be late to work. Yeah. That was what this was.

But after the last line left his mouth he didn't hear an alarm, or even the familiar noise of his roommate's morning rituals, he heard clapping. He opened his eyes and Cook was still there, this huge smile on his face. David's face was bright red, there was no way it wasn't, and he ducked his head in a futile attempt to avoid Cook's look.

"Um, th-thanks," he said, as close to wanting to leave as he probably could get while talking to Cook.

Cook was suddenly in front of him rather than a few feet away, his hand clapped down onto David's shoulder causing him to flinch. "Tell me again why you aren't majoring in something like theater or music?"

"Uh, I just… Well. It isn't realistic?" David frowned, that was something his dad had said to him in the past. "I mean, it isn't a good idea. I love it but I doubt it would go anywhere. And I can still sing as a Business major? And I don't have to worry about pressure or… um.. anything."

He swallowed to stop himself from going on. Cook had a look on his face that David wasn't sure he could place. It made him want to squirm. "I got to say I have no idea how to read you, man."

"Could we stop talking about this now?" David asked, his voice raised an octave.

Cook seemed to get that David had reached some sort of limit and he shrugged and smiled. "Sure, didn't mean to push you or anything. You just have talent, I can't believe you wouldn't want to do something with it."

David wasn't going to admit that he _did_ want to do something with it. He had always wanted to, actually, but after Star Search and his vocal chords, it just felt like it was always going to be out of his reach. He didn't want to unload that on Cook, no matter how much he might trust him, Cook already knew too much for David's comfort.

Out of nowhere Cook lay down on the stage, which made David frown and blink like he was missing something. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a break," Cook said with an unspoken 'isn't that obvious'. "You should try it."

David frowned, "Lay on the ground? But it's so… _dirty_. "

Cook laughed, "Oh come on, don't be chicken. It won't kill you, scout's honor."

When Cook held up three fingers David couldn't help but give in, making sure he was far enough away that he wouldn't have to worry about invading Cook's space. "That's girl scouts, boy scouts only hold up two fingers."

"I've been found out," Cook laughed.

The thing about talking with Cook was that it didn't entirely feel real. He wasn't about to admit the times he had thought about talking with Cook, but it was just enough that it didn't entirely feel real when he did it. So he found that he could say things to him that he wouldn't necessarily say to anyone else. It didn't matter if Cook knew, because Cook wasn't real. Or, he was real, but he was leaving on Sunday morning, so why should David worry about what he thought when he would be out of his life in a matter of days?

He found it was almost freeing to lie down in the center of the stage and stare up at the rafters with Cook there beside him.

"You know," Cook said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "I am probably more nervous then you are. I hate how much hype came out around me, I am never going to live up to what people think of me. Good or bad, really. I'm just me, nothing special."

David could feel the words on his tongue before he could stop himself, "I think you are! I mean… oh. Um that you live up to… Or exceed my expectations? … In the good way… I think."

Cook chuckled. "Easy, don't want to inflate my ego."

"Gosh," David groaned and covered his face. "Sometimes I wish I had an off switch."

"Don't," Cook said, and when David looked it was to catch the beginnings of a smile. "It's part of your charm. "

David was never good at reading people but the tone of his voice made David hope he wasn't being sarcastic this time. It wasn't till Cook coughed and looked away that he realized he probably should have said something. Or at the very least not stared at him like an idiot.

"I almost tried out for _American Idol_ your year," David blurted out and turned his head just enough to be able to see his profile.

Cook looked over at him with a playful smile, "You did not."

"I did!" David squeaked defensively. "But I am pretty sure I wouldn't gotten and I loved my job, and my friends. Plus I would have hated being away from my family for that long."

Cook nodded and David realized of all the people to know why he didn't do it, Cook would be one of the few to actually _get it_. "Well I got to be honest here, I am kind of glad you didn't."

"Yeah?"

"With you in the competition I would have never stood a chance."

David felt his insides melt into something like jelly. He turned his head back to the ceiling, hoping Cook wouldn't notice how hard he was blushing. "_Oh gosh_. That isn't true, you won that because you were clearly the best."

"Don't sell yourself short," Cook's voice barely made it to David. "I wasn't supposed to try out either." David knew the story, but he didn't interrupt him when he went on. "Sometimes I kind of wonder if I should have in the first place."

This time it was David who was knocked off guard. He tried his best not to stare over at Cook, even if he really wanted to. Maybe he could be the same thing for Cook as Cook was to him, a sounding board. A set of ears that wasn't family or friends or even management in Cook's case, and if that was the case he was going to be that as much as possible.

He thought maybe Cook would go on, but when he didn't David couldn't help but prompt, "Why do you think that?"

"I guess I miss my family," Cook admitted. "And what normal feels like."

David wasn't about to say, 'I have no idea what say or do, sorry?' so he made an ambiguous "hmmmm". He had done Star Search when he was a kid, and it got him a little attention, but never anything like what he imagined Cook got. And his family had been with him most of the time. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard stage floor.

A thought struck him and he weighed if he should say it out loud. Cook had been really nice to him so far, but that could be just something that he did. It didn't mean that he actually thought David was a friend or something. But when he turned to look at Cook and found the thin line of a grimace on his face David couldn't help it.

"Do you want to go do something?"

Cook gave him a weird look, "What?"

"We could," David lost any trace of certainty but pushed on. "Uh. We could do something? Like… go out? Maybe get some ice cream… or Starbucks? I… thought. You know, we could see what normal is like?"

The urge to take it all back was on the tip of his tongue when Cook let loose a huge grin. "Yeah, that would be awesome."

"Really?"

Cook rolled over on to his stomach and pushed himself up before offering David a hand. "Yeah, I just got to run to the bus for a few things and I am yours."

David didn't let his heart jump into his throat at that and consciously made the effort to swallow around the opening to sing Jason Mraz as both would be totally lame. Instead, he nodded and shoved his hands into his back pockets. "I will be… right here?"

"_Awesome_," Cook beamed, and turned to run off stage right. David was struck with the fact that this wasn't entirely what he had been expecting from Cook. He remembered the weird shift in personality on American Idol, how at the beginning of the season there was this happy bartender from Tulsa, and the slow but sure transition into a 'Rock Star'.

The Cook that David had been around felt more like the bartender, or what he had imagined that would be like. But he was all business when he was on stage, even with his band mates. It was… something that David wasn't sure he could describe to anyone and that just made it even more frustrating.

Cook came back onto the stage panting a little like he had barely stopped to breathe on his way to the bus. He stuttered to a stop a few feet from David and gave another huge grin. "Ready."

"Good," David smiled. Then he realized that maybe he should have thought somewhere farther than just inviting Cook out. He hadn't really lived there that long, just a semester and a half. There was nothing too spectacular surrounding the college and that had been where he spent most of his time. He didn't drink, he hated the smell of smoke. He was totally blank.

He had just about started to panic about what they were supposed to do when Cook's tour manager stopped him at the door. At the clearing of his throat, Cook seemed to tense. The man's green eyes made David wish he could be a turtle and duck back into himself.

"What now, Hill?" Cook's voice had gone totally flat.

'Hill' turned to look at him. "You have a phone interview in a half an hour."

"Can't you move it?"

He got a terse shake of the head as Hill turned to give David another once over. "I'm sure you won't mind a rain check, would you?"

He did, he really really did, but he knew well enough what that look wanted, and it wasn't the truth. "Of course not. I will um… catch you later. It was nice… you know. Hanging out. Talk to you later?"

By the time he heard Cook say his name he was already almost too far to hear him. He didn't slow down till he got back to his dorm.

*

For a concert that wasn't announced until the morning of and in a completely small town, the theater was nearly sold out. If the look on Mr. Turner's face was any indication, the second show was going to be just as packed. David had to be the luckiest guy at BYU, seeing as he got paid to see both shows, which he would have happily paid for with money he really didn't have to spare.

Cook and his band were amazing, naturally, and each song ended with tumultuous applause. David watched in fascination at how well Cook could interact with the crowd. He smiled, he teased and flirted just like it was breathing, natural and with little effort visible on his part.

The crowd seemed to feed off of it, and even though he had seen lots of performances on the stage that got the audience's support he had rarely seen an audience be so _involved_ in a show. Not for the first time since he met Cook, David considered if he was reading into the way the guy interacted with him. It was obvious that Cook had charisma to spare, maybe he didn't really want a friendship with David, he was just being himself and David was missing the social cues.

It made his stomach hurt just enough that he couldn't enjoy the show as much as he wanted.

Just before the encore, though, Cook threw out another curve ball by shushing the crowd. "You guys are awesome, has anyone ever told you that?"

The room burst into applause and cheers.

"But speaking of awesome," Cook said, smiled as his hands went up to shush the crowd's cheers yet again. He started over, "Speaking of awesome, I have to tell you all you have an awesome tech here, that I suspect doesn't get the respect he deserves. His name is David, so he already is pretty cool in my books, but he is also just plain awesome to be around. Turn towards the back and say 'Thanks David' so we can let him know he is appreciated."

David watched the audience do just that in a kind of stunned silence. That was… well. He didn't even know what that was.

"Okay, now how about I play you a song from my old CD?" Cook said and the audience turned back towards the stage with a cheer.

*

The next afternoon Cook walked into the box without knocking and sat on the extra bar stool. David had been nervous that after the afternoon previous it would be kind of awkward, knew he was still reeling from the thing before the encore last night. Cook, however, didn't seem to notice at all, "Hey, you free?"

David looked up from the book about troubadours and nodded, "Yeah, do you need me to do something for you?"

"I wanted to cash in that rain check. I am going stir crazy, you got to help me break out of here."

David couldn't help but frown a little. "I make a pretty lame accomplice, I can't lie to save my life."

"Good to know," Cook said as he reached for David's hand and tugged him until he stood up. "I think I will take my chances."

Even if he had wanted to say no, one look at the playful smirk and David would have been toast. He closed the book and reached down to put it in his messenger bag. He shoved the bag under the soundboard. When he turned to look at Cook again he was leaning against the doorframe.

He swallowed around the sudden dry feeling in his mouth. "So… um. What do you want to do?"

"To be honest I am just stir crazy enough that anything is okay with me," he shrugged, but added, "Can't take too long though, I think I could swing an hour or so but sooner rather than later someone will notice I am gone."

David worried his lower lip in an effort to concentrate, "We could go to a park and maybe go for a walk or something? We can walk over to the strip mall and grab something to drink? We don't have to go to Starbucks again. Do you like Orange Julius?"

"Aww, man, you had me at hello," he teased.

"Huh?"

Cook groaned, "You are killing me, Archuleta. You never heard that before? It was everywhere after Jerry Maguire came out."

He pulled a face, "I don't think I am allowed to watch that."

"_Allowed_?" Cook looked flabbergasted.

David tried not to bristle at the implication his voice was making. "I guess I could _now_ but my parents weren't okay with us seeing anything past PG."

"Okay then," Cook said, still looking like David had grown an antennae and he just wasn't telling him. "Tom Cruise craziness aside it's a pretty good flick. Chick flick, but well done enough you can get past it."

He stopped himself from saying just how unlikely him watching that movie would be, he knew exactly nothing about sports and he didn't really like watching movies with that much profanity but he didn't think Cook needed to hear about it. Instead he nodded and hoped Cook would read into it what he needed.

There was this weird moment where David knew he should say something but couldn't think of anything that would fit in. Added to the fact that Cook was maybe a little too close for comfort and it was enough to throw him off what little game he might have. Thankfully his mouth caught up with his brain in time to salvage a little of his dignity.

"So you want to go?"

Cook nodded and turned around without saying anything at all. As they made their way to the side exit Cook made a production of looking around corners and making sure no one was looking. It was a little difficult to reconcile the Cook he had known over the last few days and the Cook that was on Idol. Not that he came across as mean or even slightly rude but he had always seemed on some levels withdrawn. As David watched him flatten himself against a wall and hum his own personal theme music David wondered what had changed.

Except for a close brush with Hill again (who had thankfully been on the phone and yelling so he was distracted) there was no real difficulty getting out. When they broke out into the early afternoon both took a moment to shield their eyes from the bright sun. The strip mall was the same as the other night so they set off in the direction in silence. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but David knew it could be much worse.

He used the silence as time to get his head back in order. The sad fact of the matter was, in twenty-four hours Cook was gone. First back to Los Angeles to record again, then back on the road again. It wasn't like he thought Cook would drop him completely, after the last few days he had discovered that Cook didn't know how to do anything half way. He knew that he would probably end up getting stupid jokes in text messages, emails with links to music to try out, probably even some phone calls too but it wasn't going to be the same.

Somehow, he got the feeling that once the weekend was over there was going to be no way to go back to it. The summer before he had started middle school he had one of the best summers of his life. He and his best friend Sam spent the summer like little wild heathens, goofing off and finding ways to start their lame versions of trouble. Even a decade later he still looked back and wondered why that summer was different, but nevertheless it had ended and he had spent every summer since trying to go back to it. It felt kind of like it might be like that. Like even if all the ingredients were still present the recipe would never taste the same.

"I haven't had Orange Julius in forever," Cook said as he pulled open the door and waved a hand as an invitation for David to walk in ahead of him.

"Me either," David realized. They both ordered the original, Cook insisted on paying even when David told him not to and then walked out the front door. There was a small park nearby, and the day was so beautiful that David wanted to spend some time enjoying it before he knew he had to go back and be in the pitch dark box for the night.

There was an empty bench, so they both sat and started to drink. David had added a banana to his, something that had made Cook's nose wrinkle.

"Doesn't it taste weird?" he asked. David shrugged and offered it to Cook to try. He stared at the straw like it might jump out and attack him. "Nah thanks, I'm good."

David laughed, "Come on, Cook, what are you chicken? It is just a banana. You barely taste it and it's good for energy and potassium."

"Potassium, huh? How could I turn that down?" he teased, and rather than take the cup from his hand he leaned down and sipped from the straw with David still holding it. He pulled back with a frown. "Potassium or not, that tastes nasty. "

For the second time that day his mouth went cotton dry, but this time he had a drink to take care of it. It wasn't until he had the straw in his mouth that the fact that Cook drank out of it. He froze mid sip, horrified to find that he was getting turned on, right there on a bench in the middle of a _park_ where parents took their kids. Right in front of _David Cook_, and just because they shared a drink. It was so totally embarrassing that a straw made his brain jump to wanting to kiss him.

"You okay?" Cook said, his head tilted towards him.

He must look like an idiot, he had to resist the urge to duck and hide. "Uh… brain freeze?"

Cook didn't quite look like he believed it but didn't dig further. "Put your tongue to the top of your mouth, it'll make it go away faster."

"Thanks," David mumbled, and did it even though there really was no brain freeze at all.

It was dead silent again, this time far less comfortable then earlier. Somehow it hadn't clicked that this was kind of like a _date_ or something. Not that David had much experience in that department, but he had enough sisters that the cliché was stuck in his head. Cook had invited him, held the door for him, he paid for his drink, which he guessed made him the girl? He didn't know what he was supposed to think about that.

Beside him Cook cleared his throat, "What do you get when you mix a vampire and a pirate?"

"I don't know," David said, already smiling.

"Dracu-arrrrr…"

He laughed despite himself, "That's awful."

"What do pirates listen to in the car?"

"Um… the arrrrradio?" he tried lamely.

Cook shook his head, "NPArrrrgh."

Again David laughed, even though it wasn't funny at all. "You need to find new jokes, Cook."

"Funny you should say that," Cook gave a crooked smile. "I came up with one this morning. You know what your Pirate name would be?"

David frowned, "I have no idea…"

"David Arrrrrrrchuleta."

It was so over the top ridiculous that David's laugh seemed to come out without his permission. He leaned forward, a hand on his stomach as he laughed. When David snorted Cook started laughing too. A part of him was thankful that the park was all but dead, knowing that anyone who saw them would probably think they were totally crazy but the rest of him didn't care.

By the time they both got it back together Cook's phone chirped loudly from his pocket, not once, not twice, but three times in rapid succession. He let out a groan, "I think that's my cue to go back."

"Of course," David smiled, but it was only partially real. He didn't have much time left, he wanted to spend as much of it as he could just goofing off and enjoying it. In his pocket though, his phone vibrated against his leg. "The jig is up."

On the way back there was an awkward moment when their hands brushed up against each other. For a split second he thought maybe Cook was going to take his hand, but that passed quickly when Cook jumped a few inches away. David forced himself to walk a foot away from Cook.

He couldn't quite ignore the melodramatic voice in his head that was singing an old Lisa Loeb song, _The drone in your voice, and the fly on the wall said, "It's over, it's over, it's over, it is."_

Sometimes he hated his brain.

*

Sometime in the afternoon Cook snuck up to the Box, again catching David completely off guard. When he heard the cough from behind him David turned around too fast to realize that he was still wearing the headset attached to the soundboard, which ended up with him having one of the cans in the center of his face. In general he was pretty awkward but it seemed when Cook was around he raised awkward to an art form.

Once the headset was off and Cook's laugh had calmed down David barely got the chance to get a word out before Cook grabbed his phone from beside him.

"Hey, give that back!" David grabbed but missed it. "… Please?"

It set Cook off again, laughing like he might just bust something. Without a word he fiddled around with the phone before handing it back to him. David stared at the small screen to check if he had done anything weird to it. When he was in high school his friends had a game of going into people's phones to change the language setting. (He flinched every time he thought about how long one of his cell phones was exclusively in Hebrew before he figured out how to change it back.)

Just as he was about to give up and ask Cook what he had done the little envelope popped up on his screen with the name, 'Rrrrroland'. He opened it to find a simple, '_hey_'. It took an embarrassingly long moment to catch on.

"Did you just give me your number?"

Cook shrugged, "I actually just needed to take yours but figured two birds, you know?"

Even if his brain was functioning properly he wouldn't understand but he nodded either way, "Aren't you supposed to like, not give out your number in case it gets to fans who might blow your phone up with calls or something?"

"I think I can take the chance," he teased. "That is why I used my middle name, and besides are you planning on giving it out?"

David shook his head, "No, not at all."

"Well, there you go then," Cook beamed. "And now I can send you jokes while waiting for the show to start, it's a win-win trade."

Before he could think of anything to say to that there was a knock on the door, which swung open even though neither had said it was okay. It was Hill, again, and David usually tried not to not like someone unless he had a really good reason, but Hill was trying that patience. Hill looked from Cook to David and then back again.

"Can I speak to you for a minute?"

Cook rolled his eyes and faked like he was snapping a whip, "Yes, _sir._"

A minute after he left David got another text, "_Hill looks like Elmer Fudd when he gets angry._"

David responded, cause he really could see where Cook could say that and then found himself staring down at the phone every few minutes till the show started.

He didn't get any more texts.

*

That night's concert was weirdly different than the night before. Cook seemed, somehow, a little less relaxed and alternated between banter that seemed forced or rehearsed and just giving up and playing songs without a break between. His band seemed to get it though, and worked through it without any awkward stops or starts.

It didn't seem like the audience noticed anything was up, though, and they were just as pumped as the one the night before. David could almost believe that he was just reading into things that weren't there (he did that a lot) but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't imaging it.

After the show he lingered in the Box, using a lame try at shifting papers around as an excuse. When the audience had cleared out entirely and most of Cook's roadies had gone David finally walked down to the stage and weighed if it would be out of line to go to Cook's dressing room to see if he was okay.

He ran through the afternoon, trying his best to see if maybe he had done or said something to annoy Cook. Then the fact that that was pretty self-centered of him hit him in the chest and he had to pause in his pacing to try and have a reality check. He wasn't the center of Cook's universe, not even by a long shot. He had known him for a grand total of two days and would no doubt be just an afterthought down the line.

When he heard footsteps behind him he turned hoping to see Cook. It was Hill, again with a cell phone to his ear, and he got an annoyed glare that made him feel entirely too young. He shook his head, this was a bad idea from the start, if Cook wanted to talk to him he would have done it.

It figured that he walked out the back door and crashed headlong into Cook. His hair was damp, like he just got out of the shower and he had changed out of the tight black pants and shirt he wore onstage and looked casual in worn out jeans and a 'Ramones' shirt. Even in the sick yellow glow that came from the lamp light Cook looked …_good_. David tried not to stare too hard.

"Hey, you're still here," he sounded tired. "I figured you went back to your dorm."

"Oh, uh. Yeah, I was going to do that, I just wanted…" he paused, unsure if he should tell him that he had been worried and wanted to make sure that he was okay. He had to say _something_ though, so all that came out was a lame, "I wanted to tell you were awesome tonight. Seriously, amazing."

It wasn't a lie, even with the tense undercurrent Cook had still been awesome, but the compliment came out forced and uncomfortable. Cook's smile was one he didn't think he had seen before. Small and not entirely happy, more like one he used to convince people who didn't know him that he was okay. The fact that in all actuality David _didn't_ know him well enough for him to define that smile left a sour taste in his mouth.

Cook seemed to at least be as uncomfortable as he was, his "Thank you" coming just a few seconds too late and stilted.

Then there was nothing really left to say on David's part. He guessed that he should try and say goodbye or something but there was no way he would get through that without making a total jerk of himself and that just wasn't what he wanted to do. He shifted from foot to foot nervously.

Cook nodded, for no apparent reason, like maybe he was answering a question he had asked himself and David felt even more confused.

"I guess," David started. "That I should um… go. It was nice to mee… These last few days were nice. I hope you have a good trip home."

_ So much for not sounding like an idiot_ he thought. He started to walk by and Cook put out his arm to stop him.

"_Wait._"

David tried to stop himself from sounding as annoyed as he was starting to feel. "What?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

Suddenly David felt his stomach form one giant knot. Cook looked, well… nervous. Like he was really scared about what he was going to say. The idea that maybe the tension of the night wasn't a bad thing hadn't even occurred to him. It was stupid, _impossible_ and stupid. But the more he thought about it the less completely out of the realm of possibility it seemed.

They were close together, too close probably. And earlier when they were walking Cook had jumped when their hands had brushed up against each other. He was distracted all night, but so was David. Maybe Cook was distracted because he was leaving the next day as well? Cause he was going to miss David?

Cook looked like he was nervous too. David wanted to laugh. The knot in his stomach seemed to dissipate and change into butterflies instead.

He started to open his mouth but David didn't let him get a word out, instead he smiled. David barely recognized his own voice, it was low and smoother, at least to him. "I have something to talk to you about, too."

And this was it, that moment that all of the stupid teen romance movies had where they admitted their feelings and kissed. He knew it, it was perfect. He stared at Cook's lips, watched as his tongue poked out to nervously trace along his bottom lip. He wondered why Cook hadn't just _kissed him already_. It wasn't like he could be worried David would not want to. Did he need an engraved invitation or something?

But… then something Cook said popped into his head, "_ Don't let someone take it from you. Trust me, you want to give it._"

There wasn't really much space between them so he had little to go to bridge it. He was maybe an inch away when Cook opened his mouth.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he pulled back his head and David almost fell forward before he caught himself.

He frowned, more confused than upset, "I was trying to kiss you? Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"David…" Cook started, and it wasn't till that moment that David realized he should probably move back or something, because he was still uncomfortably close.

"But… you…" David's confusion was morphing into something different, a dark churning in his stomach mixed with embarrassment. He felt his eyebrows knit together. "You were looking at my lips. And you said you had to talk. And then you looked at me like that, and you said you should give your first kiss so I thought you didn't think you could just kiss me and so I did. Or I … I tried?"

Cook let out a breath and David realized with horror that he had tears starting and that was seriously just a new level of low that he never thought he could reach. He was shaking from anger or maybe adrenaline and he felt so horribly stupid he couldn't think about it.

Cook started to say something again and David stopped him just like the last time. "No. Um. No. I shouldn't have thought that… well. Yeah. Duh, what was I thinking, right? I must look like a total idiot to you, right? Stupid little Mormon boy from a backwards town. Just… well. Just forget it. I can't believe I was… so. _Gosh_ I can't believe I was so _stupid_."

He pushed past Cook and broke into a run when he heard his name from behind him. Even though he couldn't remember the last time he ran and even with the bag over his shoulder, he moved fast and steadily away, too fast for Cook to follow him. Though he doubted Cook would actually do that. David felt humiliated, more than he could ever remember being in his life. He wasn't even angry with Cook at all, how could he be? It was totally his fault. He had misread the signals, he had been the one who tried to _kiss him_… it wasn't Cook at all.

He didn't stop until he reached his dorm, which left him with a cramp in his side and completely out of breath. He walked into his room to find that his roommate was out for the night and he sent a silent prayer upwards for small miracles. He worried that he might not fall asleep, but as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out.

*

The next morning David woke up with a headache and an ache in his chest that took a minute for his brain to place. When it did, though, he put his pillow over his face and groaned miserably. He wished he could take the entire night back.

He only let himself mope for all of thirty seconds before he forced himself to get out of bed. Even if he could figure out how to explain why he ached the way he did, he knew if he stayed in bed all day his roommate would ask questions he just didn't want to answer. He lingered in the shower, hoping to wash away some of the pathetic he felt was clinging to him.

He walked into the common room to find Blake looking at his laptop incredulously. When he heard David, he snapped it closed, looking up at him guiltily.

David paused with a frown, "Good morning?"

Blake seemed flustered, "Um, yeah… Morning."

David walked over to the fridge and opened it to grab some orange juice, but frowned at it and switched it out for milk. The only clean cup was a mug his mother had given him that with a cat hanging on a branch, the irony didn't escape him.

He noticed as he sat down that Blake was all but following his every move with his eyes and he grimaced. "Do I have like morning hair or a weird mark on my face or something?"

"What?" Blake feigned innocence. "No, you look fine."

That wasn't a comfort, "So why are you looking at me like I grew devil's horns?"

The room phone started a shrill ring and both of them grabbed at it. Blake got to it just a second before him and turned to whisper into the receiver. Something was going on, he just couldn't quite place what it was. Blake turned to hand him the phone. "It's uh… for you."

"This is David?" he said into the receiver.

A terse female voice flowed over the line. "Mr. Archuleta, the Dean needs to speak with you immediately. "

He didn't even think that the Dean's office was open on Sundays, and he bit back the urge to ask why he wasn't at Church. The woman didn't sound like she would have a sense of humor about that. "I am not really feeling good right now. Could I come in tomorrow instead?"

"I am afraid not," she said, her voice saying that she wasn't bothered by the fact all. "It requires immediate attention. We will expect you with in the half hour."

A click told him that that wasn't a request so much as a demand and he stared at the phone in his hand for a second before turning it off. He looked over at Blake.

"What am I missing?"

Blake looked awkwardly down at his laptop and back up at David. "You were hanging out with David Cook yesterday."

"Yeah?" his throat felt weirdly tight. "So?"

Blake shifted in his seat, "The paparazzi caught you."

"They what?" his brain was more or less blank except for the horrifying image of them standing outside the stage door last night, yelling in each other's faces. He wondered if it could be a picture of that. He wondered if Cook had heard yet. Wanted to know what he thought.

Blake said something else, but David didn't hear it. He walked back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and the first shirt that looked clean. He didn't even want to know how he looked, instead just grabbed his keys and his wallet and walked out without looking at his roommate again.

*

The Dean was actually waiting in his office's waiting room when he got there. David had never met him, but had seen enough of his face around campus to know who he was instantly. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that he wasn't going to like what was going to come out of his mouth.

When the gossip magazine was thrown down in front of him he almost laughed. It wasn't from the fight, wasn't from when they almost kissed. It was a picture of the two of them on the bench, Orange Julius's in hand. He had been sure they were all by themselves, but apparently he was wrong.

The thing was, of all the moments in the day to end in infamy it was ridiculous for him to see just which one it was. If they caught him even a few minutes before this they could have caught him staring at Cook while he tried his drink, or hours later he could have caught David leaning in to _kiss_ Cook. He wanted to say that to the Dean but doubted that would help his case at all.

"We weren't doing anything!" David said desperately, his hands moving in every direction.

The Dean frowned at David and put the copy of the Star on his desk, facing David. "That isn't what this picture seems to say."

David frowned at the offending picture, Cook leaning back in the middle of a laugh and David was leaning over mid laugh as well. It had to have been after Cook told him the joke with his name in it. Maybe they were a little too close for comfort but it hadn't felt that way at the time. It wasn't like they were fornicating or something, it was totally innocent. Cook didn't like him like _that_, he didn't even think he liked boys in the first place. He made himself avert his eyes.

"The picture lies then," he said, and felt a sick churn in his stomach.

The Dean sighed, "Mr. Archuleta. I am sure you are familiar with the Moral Code that you signed when you first started here. Brigham Young prides itself on its high expectations of its students."

David was pretty sure he might be sick. An image of his mother's disappointed frown made his chest ache. He knew how seriously they took the code (the screen savers, posters and shirts that the RAs had made that clear), but they really hadn't been doing anything. Hadn't done anything later, even if David had _wanted_ to. He couldn't get kicked out of BYU for laughing, could he?

"That being said," the Dean went on, looking down at a folder in front of him. "I am going to have to take your word on this. I talked with your advisor and a few of your professors and they all agreed that you are trustworthy enough to warrant a second chance. Know this, I do not give third chances. Maybe you should take this as a sign to take a long look at what your priorities are. Your education, your _life_ and your faith or this friendship?"

"Thank you sir," he forced himself to his feet and shook the hand he was offered.

As he walked out of the office and into the waiting area, he felt like he just might get onto the first Greyhound to be leaving and head out of town. It wasn't like he thought it would solve anything, he knew that wherever he went he would still have to deal with this problem, but for the first time in as long as he could remember he wanted to be far away from Utah. In his pocket his phone vibrated and he grabbed for it, half hoping it was going to be Cook. Instead his mom's face smiled up at him. He hit end and sighed.

Something gnawed at the back of his mind, a distinct feeling that somehow he was missing out on the big picture. In the long run, he had to admit to himself that he should feel lucky. A warning wouldn't be put on his permanent record, he wouldn't have to call his parents and tell him that he had been kicked out. It turned out as nothing more than a blip on the radar. Seeing as he was convinced that he would never hear from Cook again, he might as well forget it had ever happened and move on.

That was about as likely to happen as BYU revoking the stupid moral code.

*

He didn't know if it was just his imagination but the rest of the morning he constantly felt like people were looking at him. BYU wasn't large by any stretch of the imagination, but he had no idea how people would recognize him. The picture had been on the cover of a trashy magazine, there wasn't any way that _everyone_ could have seen it.

But… well. Blake had seen it. He hadn't even thought to ask him where he had found it, or even to ask the Dean that.

And it was just … like an itch on the back of his neck. He went to get breakfast at a small café just off campus and the girl behind the counter had stuttered when he tried to order. When he sat down at a table he looked over just in time to see a table of boys look away from him. It was unsettling.

When a girl almost _fell off a bike_ turning back to stare at him, he decided it was time to call it a day. Imagination or not, he just needed to curl up in his bed and sleep it off. With any luck he would wake up and it would all have blown over.

Blake was still at the table where David had left him a few hours before, laptop on and ear buds in his ears. He caught sight of David walking in and went to shut the laptop again. Before he could though, David took three long strides across the room and put his hand in the way. He lifted the computer off of the table and for a split second he wondered where he had gotten this impulsiveness from, cause it certainly hadn't been there a few days ago.

"Hey!" Blake yelped. "Give that back."

David shook his head as he moved to sit down at another chair. "I need to see this."

"You really don't want to," Blake said, a little desperate. This was probably more than they had talked to each other in the entire semester. David looked at the screen, the picture that had been on the magazine splashed across the screen.

Above the picture the headline read, 'AMERICAN IDOL'S MORMON BOYFRIEND?'

_May 17th _

Everyone has heard the rumors about the seventh season of American Idol, most of which have centered on the eventual winner, David Cook. But until recently that was all that they were. Rumors.

But after the recent break up of Cook from his girlfriend and former competition Kimberly Caldwell those rumors started back up again. Late nights and clubs, some of which aren't exactly the kind you would tell your mother about. (See May 12th article 'COOK CAUGHT OUTSIDE A GAY CLUB')

This past weekend brought about another mysterious piece to the puzzle. Could Cook be seeing a Mormon boy? There had been much speculation about why they chose BYU as the sight for the last of his surprise shows, but one of his roadies has his own idea of why it was.

'(He) spent pretty much the entire time with a local tech kid,' the source (whose name is withheld) said. 'It really annoyed his manager too, every time we would look for him we only had to find the kid and there Cook would be, without fail.'

There was also talk of a fight outside the building before he left. How scandalous!

Could this random tech kid be the 'David' he apparently made a point to thank at the end of his show? Only time will tell.

There was a link that offered more photos and against his better judgment he clicked it. He was thankful that all the photos were of them on the bench, a little horrified to find one of Cook sipping through the straw and him watching him do so. He was confused as to why that one wasn't the one used as the front page but relieved at the same time. David stared at the screen far longer than it took for him to read the words on the screen, only looking away when Blake gave a fake cough.

"It doesn't give your name," Blake said quietly, in what David assumed was an attempt at comfort.

He was bizarrely calm or maybe just numb. His voice was even though, almost monotone. "How did you find it?"

Blake didn't say anything, just looked down and away.

"Blake, _please_."

Blake looked decidedly less comfortable by the minute, "Some girl who works in the Dean's office forwarded the web site. I don't know how the Dean got it so quickly but she was called in really early."

"Thanks," David said, the word rolled off his tongue before he really could think of how stupid it was to say. He pushed back from the table and walked into the bedroom, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do next.

He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. A part of him wondered if it had gotten back to Cook yet. It probably wouldn't matter to him, David realized, he had to be used to the paparazzi and press after this long. Maybe it wouldn't even register as a blip on his radar.

From beside his head he heard a buzzing and he looked over to see his phone vibrating on his bedside table. He reached for it, mostly to stop the annoying noise but when he looked at the screen he found that he had missed twenty phone calls. He flipped open the screen and hit the button to check the missed calls.

The bottom of his stomach fell out at the amount of calls that were from his parent's home numbers, alternating with a few from Claudia and a few from the theater. Since he had moved away from home, even if he was just forty-five minutes away, he had tried to assert some separation. Most weeks he talked to his parents twice, Sunday and Wednesday like clockwork. He was always the one who called them, rarely the other way around. Claudia and he had switched almost entirely to text messages and emails. So there was little chance that this was just a coincidence.

He had three voice mails, all from his mother who just asked him to call home and then hung up. There was a text from his sister that was just a series of question marks. It was … well. He didn't know if he wanted to call them back. Knew there were going to be questions he would have to lie to answer and if he was bad at lying to friends and strangers he was off the charts horrible at lying to his family.

While he was still staring at his sister's text his phone flashed a picture of his mom and started to vibrate in his hands. Not hesitating long enough to talk himself out of it he hit the send button and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

He heard his mother let out a long breath, "Gracias a Dios."

"Hi momma," he tried again, his throat suddenly tight. "Sorry I didn't answer earlier. I guess… you… saw?"

"Amy sent it to her mother," his mother said and he hated how tired her voice sounded. He had almost forgotten that his next-door neighbor's daughter was also at BYU, not like they had ever been close. "David, please tell me what's going on."

David closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose, "Nothing. Nothing is going on. He needed a break and I was the only one not doing anything. I was playing tour guide, that's it."

"David," his dad's voice came on the line, he could picture him standing in the kitchen on the extension. "Amy said you were called to the Dean's office."

For a split second he pumped one of his fists, so angry that he was sure if he knew where Amy lived he would find a way to ask her what gave her the right to ruin his life. It passed, though, when he reminded himself that she wasn't the one who got him there in the first place. He wondered if this was some sort of test from on high. He tried to give the least amount of information while still telling the truth. "I did, but I just needed to explain to him what had happened and he let me go."

The line was silent for a few long moments, "Maybe you should come home."

"Dad, please, _no_," he knew his voice probably sounded like a whine more than he would want it to.

His mom clucked her tongue. "You have us worried, Button."

"Don't worry, mom. I'm fine, I promise," he lied. "School is almost over for the semester and by next semester it will be old news."

"Your mother and I will come pick you up from the dorms to bring you home for the summer," his dad said, using the tone of voice that had always meant that the discussion was over and done with.

He sighed. "Okay, dad. I should... I should go. I will call you in a few days."

There was a click that had to be his dad putting down the phone because his mom's voice came through the line one more time, "We love you, David."

"Love you too," he shut his phone and rubbed at the few tears that had escaped his tightly shut eyes.

*

The next morning David woke up and forced himself to go to class, even when he didn't want to. It was bizarre that life just went on, like nothing had happened at all. His professor still opened the class with a quote that only she would think was thought-provoking. Everyone took notes and whispered back and forth with each other. There was this weird sense of normalcy that just made him feel almost like he was in some sort of alternate universe.

How had it only been less than a week? He felt _different_, how was everyone else just the same?

It kept like that, though, each day following the last without any real change. He could almost have convinced himself that the entire thing had been some dream if it wasn't for the fact that everyone else couldn't seem to let it go. He had thought that the awkward feeling of walking into a room and having everyone quiet down would lessen with time but it really didn't. He learned how to fake it well enough, how to focus on the floor in front of him and act like he didn't hear when they said his name.

David knew, without a doubt, that if he called Cook he wouldn't even have to ask for help before Cook would jump to his rescue. Even with the way things ended, even with the fact that he hadn't heard from him _since_ he left. The problem was every time he thought of that somehow he couldn't quite do it. He wasn't anyone's burden or charity case. He only had to make it through the last three weeks of school.

Sometime during the last few weeks of school he slowly started to come to a few realizations. Even though he had seen all the signs around school for the first two semesters, suddenly each cheery poster with their 'helpful' reminders seemed to grate on his nerves. He wondered how he ever thought he would be okay with having signed a piece of paper giving over all of his freedom. He would have readily stayed living a happy and moral based life, but somehow being forced to do so made him so irrationally unwilling to do so.

He couldn't come back to BYU in the fall, something that made him feel all at once free and petrified. Once the idea had gotten into his head he knew there was no way he was going to change it. He was also aware of how his family would react to that, how his parents would react.

When he called his mother and told her that he wasn't going to move back to Murray for the summer after all, he almost thought he could hear relief in between her pleas to come back. Even without the Church's feelings on what he was accused of, Murray was a small enough town that his shamed return would be something that would take years to move on from.

The theater was the one thing in his life that hadn't changed. When he had walked in a few days after the incident he couldn't quite believe how little they all cared about the article. After he told Mr. Turner that he was going to stay for the summer, he was offered as many hours as they could give him. He had just nodded and said thank you, knowing he could cry with how grateful he was.

He did finish the semester out, mostly for pride rather than the idea that he would need the grades to transfer anywhere down the line. The weekend before finals week he packed his stuff up and moved into a small studio apartment far enough away from campus that the rent was reasonable and month-to-month rather than a yearlong contract. (After BYU had made the rule that people had to live within two miles of campus rents further out had bottomed out.)

There was an odd ping of sadness when he finished his last final, weird in that he couldn't really remember one thing about the school that he had really enjoyed. He didn't try and over think it; he had been doing that too much lately, so he slipped in his ear phones and decided to walk to the theater even though he didn't have to be there for hours.

He had a moment of déjà vu when he walked up to the front doors and saw a nondescript SUV in front, but he told himself it was really stupid to think that meant anything. It was nondescript for a reason and could be there for any number of non- Cook related reasons.

He went straight to the Box and put down his bag. He really was way too early to actually start doing anything, and it wasn't like he had any class work to do so he walked down to the completely empty stage. It had almost become a weird ritual for him to come to the stage when it was empty and lie down on it like he had with Cook that one afternoon. Somehow it was the one piece of that weekend that he didn't ache at the memory of, and it really did serve as a way to just have some time to relax.

His iPod shuffled to Regina Spektor singing about Samson and he inhaled and closed his eyes to block the bright stage lights above him. Halfway through the song, the light seemed to dim for no reason and he opened his eyes and had to blink for a second to get the hazy shape of a body into focus. When it did he found himself jumping to his feet without thinking.

"Cook?' he said slowly, when he didn't end up switching into someone else or fading away.

Cook looked tightly wound, angry and tired. "David."

"What… what are you doing here?"

"I went by your dorm looking for you," Cook said, ignoring the question entirely. "And it was kind of funny, your roommate told me you didn't go to BYU anymore, that you were _kicked_ out."

David frowned, of course Blake would assume that, he hadn't exactly explained why he was leaving that well. "Cook..."

"You should have called me," Cook's lips were a tight line on his face. "I could have…"

David felt something in his chest break a little. "You could have _what_, Cook? Come here and saved me from myself? Talked to the Dean and told him that we were doing _nothing_? I did that. I might be younger than you, but I am not a kid. It was my life and my job to fix it. I wasn't kicked out of school, I **left**, okay? So don't feel like you owe me anything."

By the time he stopped, he felt his hands shaking at his sides. He couldn't look at Cook anymore without the fear of going on or heaven forbid tears starting. He already felt like enough of an idiot, the last thing he wanted was to break down completely _again_. He shifted his weight from foot to foot before deciding to leave, and turned to walk back out into the audience.

"Would you just stop for a second?" Cook gritted out, and when David hesitated, he was at his side with a hand on David's elbow too quick for him to think about moving. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be really frustrating?"

"No, they called me 'genuine'," he snapped, then groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. "Oh geez, that was just childish. I'm sorry. It's been a long few weeks."

Cook's hand dropped from where it had been holding David and sighed. "I guess you saw the thing in Star."

David couldn't help but start to chuckle, which quickly turned into hysterical laughter. Had he _seen_ the Star article? Talk about the understatement of the year. By the time he got a hold of himself he had to wipe at the tears under his eyes and his stomach felt a little sore.

"Did I miss something?"

The thought of putting into words what his last three weeks had been seemed to be completely beyond him. He doubted even if he had time to organize his thoughts he would make anymore sense. Didn't really think that he wanted to share everything that had happened, it was just too personal. The fact that he had spent most of it alternating between being angry with Cook and missing him was just another embarrassing thing about it.

"Everyone saw it, Cook," he said, finally. He wasn't angry about it anymore, not really. It was what it was and it wasn't like he could change it. "It got passed around school and to my parents. Yeah, I saw the article."

Cook groaned, "_Jesus_, I'm sorry. I hoped that it wouldn't show up because it didn't have your name attached. I tried to tell you about it that night, before … well. Before I fucked everything up, but then I thought … that if I just left, it wouldn't get back to you. "

"It's okay," he said and Cook quirked an eyebrow at him. "It was… a blessing in disguise. It made me take stock of my life and make changes. I don't know if I could ever thank you for that. Believe me, it's better than okay."

A frown creased Cook's forehead, "I show up and you end up leaving school, have your picture in a sleazy magazine and probably pissing your family off in the process… and you are thanking me?"

David laughed, "Well, when you put it like that, I guess it doesn't sound as good. Maybe I will take the thank you back."

"David," Cook said, his voice far more gentle then the last time. He stepped closer to David and put his hand on his wrist, for a second David forgot just exactly how to breathe.

The truly weird part was that he had spent his entire life wondering what his first kiss was going to be like. Sometimes he had imagined it was a friend or a non-descript guy, sometimes a crush he had and lately Cook monopolized it, but the details were always pretty much the same. He imagined it would be _perfect_, maybe at night by a lake or on his parents' porch when he was dropped off from a date. The kiss would always be quick, and without much finesse. He wasn't delusional. He knew it would probably be something that took time to get better.

He hadn't imagined himself standing in the center of a stage in an empty auditorium, hadn't thought he would be the one to initiate it; that was just too far-fetched. He hadn't imagined the way he would feel relaxed more than scared or how sure he would be that it was the right thing to do.

There was a moment just before he did it where he thought maybe it was a mistake. His pulse suddenly jumped and he was pretty sure he needed a breath mint he didn't have. The image of their last almost-kiss made his stomach tense just a little, but then Cook gave him this quick smile and all rational thought left him.

He pushed himself up on his toes and braced his hands on Cook's shoulders.

"Stay still," he whispered almost as an afterthought, barely an inch from Cook's face. His lips stopped Cook from replying.

And for just a second it felt like nothing at all. Chaste, like the feeling of his mother's lips on his forehead before he went to bed... but then. Then Cook leaned in a little, opened his mouth just a little bit so he could lick at David's bottom lip and his hands moved to David's hips to bring them closer and hold him still. David's hands found the back of Cook's neck and ... wow. Suddenly it was anything but chaste.

By the time Cook pulled back he had to blink against the harsh spotlights and he was kind of disoriented enough to not even know what he was supposed to do next. Cook kept his hands on David's hips for maybe a minute more, well after David's hands fell from Cook's neck to his side.

"_Wow_," David let out a long breath.

Cook's hands moved from his waist to cover the loud laugh that apparently warranted. David didn't blush, just barely, but he did divert his eyes to a patch of grey on the backdrop. He kind of wanted to ask Cook if he liked it, if he wanted to do it again. (_Please please please want that_ his brain begged.) He knew, though, that that wasn't the type of thing you asked, no matter how much you might want to.

"So," Cook cracked a smile. "What'd you think?"

David felt his eyebrows furrow. "I don't get how you would need gummi worms to make that interesting."

Another laugh, but then Cook leaned in and kissed him _again_ and David could forgive him entirely for that.

_Well I'll never be a stranger   
and I'll never be alone   
wherever we're together   
that's my home. _  
-Billy Joel "You're My Home"


End file.
